Rain
by lenny
Summary: Rory finds comfort in the least likely person. Note- this fic is now completed.
1. Run

This fic is dedicated to my twin, Jessie

A/N- I'm at a loss as to what to do with this fic. It just kind of spilled out one morning at 4. Your reviews would be greatly appreciated, because right now, I'm not exactly in love with what I've done with it, and I need some advice. Thanks.

Disclaimer- As much as I wish I did, I don't own any of the characters. I'm not making money. I'm just an obsessed fan with nothing better to do than make up stories through which I can live vicariously.

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Rain

Chapter One - Run

Rory ran, Chilton issue flats clicking down the hallway, carrying her away from this place. She had to get out of here; away from the cold, empty hearts and turned up noses.

She didn't care that people were looking at her as she sped down the hallway and out the massive doors. Down the steps, through the parking lot, across the field, into the trees. Collapsing underneath a weeping willow, Rory cried.

She didn't know how long she had been there, didn't know where she was. But she didn't care.

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

Rory jumped at the sound of the voice. Picking herself up off of the ground, she turned toward the source.

"Tristan."

"Don't sound so happy to see me, Mary." He stepped out of his place in the shadows, approaching Rory.

She turned away from him, sitting on one of the larger roots. She didn't want him there. He was who she had been running from. His kind.

But obviously he didn't get the meaning of the gesture. Or didn't care. He sat down next to her.

"Why are you here?" she said, not even turning to look at him.

Tristan bit his lip. Turning to look at Rory's tearstained face, he replied. "Why are you here?"

Rory was about to snap back at Tristan when she realized what he meant. Hastily wiping away the remainder of her tears, she turned to study him.

Tristan's eyes were red and puffy. His hair was a mess, blazer crooked, jaw trembling. He stared off into the distance, not wanting to meet Rory's gaze.

She reached up, fixing his collar. "Ironic. You mean that out of all the trees around here, I threw myself underneath a weeping willow?" She spoke slowly, cautiously, treading lightly around her enemy.

"I was thinking more about the fact that two people, so seemingly strong, are now crying below this huge tree. All of them are hard and unaffected on the outside, when in reality…" Tristan trailed off. His voice was raspy, on the brink of tears. Rory felt compassion welling up inside of her, and before she knew it she had pulled him into a hug.

That was the breaking point for Tristan. He let his tears flow freely, arms wrapped around this girl. This girl he barely knew, who hated him, and yet still found it in her heart to console him.

By just holding him in her arms for that short time, Rory had done more for Tristan than anyone else in his life. And for that he wept.


	2. Tears

This fic is dedicated to my twin, Jessie

This fic is dedicated to my twin, Jessie. You're a great inspiration, and I'm not just talking about your buddy icon. Thank you.

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed part one. Those reviews were what made me decide to keep writing Rain. I really appreciate it. I hope everyone enjoys part two.

And as another side note, I paid no attention whatsoever to what time of the year any of the events of season one occurred. I like to work things to my advantage, so please read this with an open mind.

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Rain

Chapter Two - Tears

Rory was oblivious, as usual. Staring at the teacher on an educational high. Tristan could have jumped her right then and there, and the poor girl would never have known.

Hearing a giggle from behind him, Tristan rolled his eyes and turned around slyly, putting on his patented 'I'm damn near perfect and I know it' look.

How he hated the charade. The whole pre-determined dance of Chilton. When it came to the kids he'd been going to school with since kindergarten, he woke up every morning knowing exactly what would happen.

Giving the two overly blonde girls in the back of the classroom a smirk, Tristan turned his gaze back towards the front of the classroom. Rory was still deep in thought, staring straight at the teacher, but yet not concentrating on him in the least. Sighing one of those sighs that reveal some hidden, cast away feelings, Tristan tore his gaze away to look at the clock.

-------

Steadily tapping her pencil on the desk, Rory patiently listened, trying to keep her mind focused on the Revolutionary War, every once and a while stopping to jot down some interesting fact she just knew would be asked as an extra credit question on the midterm. Absentmindedly, her gaze wandered to the window.

The leaves were just starting to turn that orangey-red color that Rory loved so much. They reminded her of the gentle fall breeze, the light jackets you wear right before winter sneaks up on you, and coffees shared on some random park bench in the middle of nowhere.

Fall brought winter, and therefore Rory liked fall. Spring stole the snow and the clarity it brought away from her, and therefore Rory didn't care too much for spring. Then there was summer.

Rory let her mind wander even further, out of the classroom, out of the time. Summer. Summer brought… pain.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement. A bright blue burning right into her.

Summer. A piano. Pain, and tears, and-

Rory stopped herself. Shaking her head to try and shake herself right out of her reverie, Rory's grip on her pencil tightened.

"Miss Gilmore? Is there a problem?" the balding teacher inquired, noticing Rory's sudden tense movements.

Sinking lower in her seat, she muttered a meek "no" before her thoughts began to slip back towards that moment that so wanted to stay hidden in the back of her mind, showing itself whenever she let her guard down. That moment when her and Tristan's lips had met only weeks before.

Chills ran through her body, and Rory silently chided herself. Tristan was a jerk. One that was devoted to making her life a living hell.

If that were true, then why did thinking about those swirling blue eyes and that intoxicating smile make her feel so dizzy?

Rory was pulled out of her thoughts as the bell rang.

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Tristan was sure his mental tugging had pulled the minute hand toward the big black 6 faster than it would have gotten there. He was tired of keeping up the façade. It was time to let the real Tristan out. The Tristan that only one person had ever seen before. The person he kept hidden under those layers of perfectly ironed uniforms, cologne, and self-assurance.

Three-thirty never came quite soon enough.

So when the bell rang, Tristan was up and out of his seat before any of his classmates had even thought about putting away their pencils. Sprinting towards the front doors, he looked longingly at Rory's locker as he passed. A sigh had escaped his lips before he even knew it.

He slowed his pace as he reached the edge of the parking lot, walking towards the top of the hill where Chilton sat, looking down upon the rest of the city as did its students. Tristan was welcoming the time to himself today, more so than usual. He needed to think. About certain things, certain people. More specifically, Rory Gilmore.

Goosebumps covered Tristan's arm. At the mere thought of her, he was on pins and needles.

DuGrey men had a history of going through women quickly, using them for all they were worth before casting them aside. They also had a history of falling once, and falling hard. With Tristan's grandfather, it had been his grandmother. With his father, some girl in college. Not his mother. To Tristan's dismay, he chose to bring this up on many occasions.

"I should have married Sarah when I had the chance. Maybe then I wouldn't be tied down by you. A wife. Spending all my money. Unappreciative bitch." he'd spit accusingly. "And him," he'd say, carelessly flailing his arms in a drunken stupor at his son, cowering away from the scene of the crime. Tristan wanted to break something whenever he thought about his father.

As for Tristan, he was beginning to worry that his one, his Rory, was ready to walk out of his life at any moment.

There was no way in hell he was going to become his father. And if that was true, then he had to do something. And fast.

-------

Rory watched quizzically as Tristan dashed out the classroom door. Shaking her head, she began to pack her books into her backpack. She never did understand that boy.

Fighting that moment tugging on the back of her brain once more, Rory walked toward her locker. She only had to get her Chemistry book that day, having only a few problems-

Rory stopped. Something was wrong. At the end of the hall, just beyond her locker, stood her father. Christopher.

She approached him slowly, knowing that for whatever reason he was actually here, whatever he had to say to her, she didn't want to hear.

He held out a hand to her. A gesture of consolation. "Rory, honey…"

Dropping her backpack on the cold tile, she took the last step towards the rest of her life.

Choking on the words, her father spoke. "Rory, honey, there's been an accident."

At that moment, Rory's world spun around the exact spot where she was standing, knees quaking, threatening to drop her at any second, and came crashing down on top of her.


	3. Regrets

All of a sudden that nagging sensation pulled Rory under

Rain

Chapter 3 – Regrets

All of a sudden that nagging sensation pulled Rory under. She saw Tristan running out of the room. Running down the hall. Out into the street. And all at once, Rory envisioned a thousand deaths for Tristan. And all of them leading to one situation. Her father, standing here, in the middle of the coldest place on earth, about to shatter her heart into a million pieces.

Rory dropped to her knees, nausea taking over her body. Her father immediately met her height, catching her wavering body.

"Rory, look at me." he pleaded, forcing her panicked eyes to meet his. "It's your mom. She…"

Time stopped. Rory didn't breathe, didn't move, didn't think. Slowly a tear began to roll down her cheek. Her mother. God, Lorelai.

"She got into a car accident. Rory, please, answer me. She's at Stars Hollow Hospital right now. Rory? God, talk to me, Rory. We've got to go. Got to get to the hospital…"

Rory stood on her own two legs, staring blankly at a row of lockers, waiting for panic to set in. Her eyes rested on a locker down the hall. It was Tristan's.

Before she even knew she had taken a breath, she was running down the hall, heels clicking behind her, closely watched by the whole student body of Chilton Preparatory School and her father, staring after her helplessly.

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Tristan stood, staring out at the lush expanse of green below him. Chilton overlooked the richest area of Hartford. From his spot, carefully hidden behind curtains of greenery, Tristan could clearly see his house. He looked out as far as he could see, imagining Stars Hollow out there somewhere.

Rory would be on her way home by now. On the bus, most likely working on those Chem problems that Anderson had assigned, leaving her plenty of time for extra credit work and studying 'just in case'.

Smiling at the thought, Tristan turned back towards where he had been seated moments before, underneath the overgrown weeping willow. Tristan was sure that the tree had been planted once, a long time ago, and been forgotten about ever since. Kind of like himself.

There once was a time when his father cared. As did his mother. The weeks following his birth proved to be hope for Mrs. DuGrey. She could clearly see a change in her husband. After their beautiful baby had been born, his heart had opened just the slightest.

Quite often a glimmer of hope can be more destructive than the hopeless. As she had feared, as their baby grew so did his detachment from the little family. Tristan, she named him. Sad. The little blue-eyed boy had always had a distraught look. Strained. Like their family.

And now he stood, looking up at the tree, a tear slowly rolling down his face. Things had gone so wrong. He had had opportunities to change, but never the courage. His grandfather had opened doors he had never even known existed. But the damage had already been done. They both had known it, even through their talk of a better life and taking chances.

Janlan DuGrey was an incredible man. Tristan was quite like he had been when he was younger. But it took Marjorie, Tristan's grandmother, to make him change his ways.

"Son, the only thing that can change a man set in his ways is his soulmate. For me, it was your grandmother. Your father passed his up years ago. Now he drowns his sorrows in his work and his alcohol. Perhaps it's too late for him, but you." he'd say, admiration for his grandson shining brightly in his eyes. "You can make it."

Janlan had lived just long enough to hear Tristan talk about Rory a few times. But that was all it took for the wise older man to realize the younger's destiny. It was a shame that he didn't have enough time to show him the truth. Janlan DuGrey died a month earlier. But Tristan knew he would always be with him.

Looking up at the sky through the leaves and branches, Tristan whispered. "I miss you, Grandfather."

A few more tears managed to escape through his strong front. Even here, hidden behind walls of nature, Tristan couldn't show any weakness. It was against his nature. Closing his eyes to gain his composure, he heard a soft sobbing in the distance. The next thing he knew, Rory Gilmore was a few feet in front of him, curled up in the safety of his weeping willow, crying softly into the ground.

He stepped forward, resisting the urge to show the Tristan DuGrey everyone knew, hiding him behind the tears.

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Rory wanted to die. Right there underneath the weeping willow.

She had run from her father, run from her mother, running to… God knows what or where.

The only thing that kept running through her mind was too horrible to put into words. Something Rory couldn't stand to consider, all the while thinking it over and over.

Her first concern had been for Tristan. Horrible, maddening, heartbreaking, Rory taunting Tristan. Resisting the urge to hurl herself right off of the cliff in front of her, she suddenly heard a voice.

-------

Tristan had regretted the words before they even left his mouth. "Don't sound so happy to see me, Mary." That was heartless Tristan speaking.

He shoved his alter ego back down, struggling to drown it within himself. With every step he took towards the crying girl, he cut loose one more string attaching himself to his mask of cruelty. He knew that pretty soon, he'd be standing in front of Rory completely vulnerable and unsheathed. But somewhere inside of him, he knew it was for the best.

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Rory didn't know how long they had been there embracing each other, finding comfort in merely the other's presence. As she sobbed into his shoulder, she realized that Tristan's chest was rising and falling sharply. He too, was crying. She wrapped her arms tightly around his strong back, inhaling his scent.

He smelled of a mixture of fabric softener, aftershave, and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. Burying her face into his neck, she let his hair softly brush against her ear. It felt so right, being there with Tristan, holding him so closely.

Then all of a sudden, reality came crashing back down on top of her. Her mother was in the hospital. She had run straight into the arms of her enemy, whom she had unconsciously put before her family. No matter how right it felt, it was incredibly wrong.

She reluctantly threaded her arms out from around him, pulling herself out of the comfort she had found underneath his chin, taking one last lingering breath of that calming scent. Tristan quickly let go of Rory, looking away, trying to hide his tears.

Rory tilted her head to look at him, raising a hand and trailing her fingers lightly over the fabric of his blazer where her tears had marred the dark navy color. She found her hand gently travelling over his collar and up to his cheekbone, wiping away the tears he so wanted to hide. Leaning closer than Tristan would ever have dared, Rory whispered.

"Thank you." She grasped his hand and stood, the tears fighting their way to the top again, calm wavering.

Tristan stood as well, looking Rory straight in the eyes. Something was missing, something was wrong. "Rory, what is it?" he asked softly, scared to break the moment.

She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. "I ran. He was there, and I… I ran."

Reaching up and turning Rory's panicked face towards his own, Tristan brushed some of the hair out of her eyes. "Rory, calm down. Calm down. Tell me what happened."

"My mom. She… she got into an accident. My dad came, and told me, and I… I didn't even think about Mom. I…" she trailed off, looking deep into Tristan's eyes. "But you're okay. You're here." She smiled, a distant, melancholy wave washing across her face.

"He told me she was at Stars Hollow Hospital. And I just ran."

Rory stared off into the distance, watching one of those orangey-red leaves fall slowly through the air. Before it even hit the ground, Rory was being pulled through the trees towards Tristan's car, and a future she wasn't quite sure she wanted to live in.


	4. Butterflies

All of a sudden that nagging sensation pulled Rory under

Rain

Chapter 4 – Butterflies

Rory sat in the passenger side of Tristan's car staring blankly out the tinted windows, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. The landscaping passed by in one huge blur.

Tristan still wasn't quite sure exactly what had happened back at Chilton, but the second he heard Rory say that her mother was at the hospital, he had forced Rory back to his car and sped off towards Stars Hollow. All he was sure of was the way Rory had felt in his arms. So soft and warm. He had never felt anything like that in his life. Even from his grandfather.

Reaching up instinctively to the necklace he always wore hidden underneath his uniform, Tristan began rolling the small diamond ring in between his thumb and index finger. He glanced over at the hunched form in the seat next to him, worry flooding his mind. He cared for her so deeply, and he kept pushing her further and further away.

It wasn't as if he meant to. Perhaps it was an instinct. It was hard for Tristan to let people in. But for some reason, when he saw Rory there in front of him so distraught, he had done the only thing he could. He held her.

Who knew. Maybe she still hated him, and always would. But the fact that she fit so perfectly next to his body would be forever imprinted in his mind.

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The car began to slow, and things outside slowly came into focus. Rory pressed her nose up against the glass, not caring that Tristan would most likely have an aneurysm when he discovered the smudged noseprint on his window. She longed to be with her mother. Everything outside reminded Rory of her. The playground across the street where she took Rory as a child. The ice cream vendor that set up shop on the edge of town every year, staying until the temperature dipped well below freezing. Lorelai would always drag Rory there on the first day of winter, ordering them both triple scoops of chocolate chip ice cream. She claimed winter was the best season for such delicacies; you could savor them for as long as you wanted because they didn't melt.

"I miss her already." Rory said, face still up against the glass.

Tristan didn't say a word, dropping the ring he still held between his fingers, and placing his hand gently over Rory's. They drove the rest of the way in silence, Tristan's thumb making soothing circles across Rory's palm.

The car came to a stop. Neither moved.

"I feel like a horrible person." Rory admitted, slowly pulling her face away from the window and turning to look at Tristan.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I should have been on my way here the second I heard. Instead I'm sitting out here like a coward."

"You're not a coward." He frowned, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Yes I am. I'm too scared to even go in there. She needs me, and all I can think about is that hospital smell and that hospital feeling and these damn butterflies that keep eating the inside of my stomach." She made no move to leave the car, looking down at her stomach accusingly.

Tristan picked up the necklace again. "She needs you." he repeated.

Rory sighed. "I know. She does."

"That must be a… nice feeling." He looked down at the bottom button of his blazer, fingers still grasping the ring, rolling it back and forth. Back and forth.

Rory made a face. "You're going to start a fire with that thing."

A blush crept up his face. He dropped the ring and swept it back underneath his shirt in one quick movement. "Don't change the subject."

Her expression soured. "Don't be an asshole." she retorted.

Looking up in shock and anger, Tristan's shields came back up. "Look, just because you can't even step into a damned hospital doesn't mean you have to take it out on me."

Rory began to make a comeback, sitting up sharply in the plush leather seat, when she realized he was right. She sank back down, defeated. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He turned around quickly, staring out the windshield, attempting to be expressionless. But the hurt was painted plainly on his face.

Sighing again, she closed her eyes and wondered just exactly how her life had turned into a living hell. Rubbing her temples, Rory forced her mind and her heart to stop racing. She felt like she was about to get into a fistfight with a train.

"Tristan, I…" She took a deep breath. "I don't know where my mind is right now. I'm just… scared."

He swallowed the words that were rising in his throat. Now was not the time to remind Rory why she hated him so much. Tristan patted his neck self-consciously, making sure his necklace was hidden safely under the folds of the fabric, then reached for the door handle.

"You can do this." he said, glancing at Rory.

"I can do this." she repeated, not believing a word of it.

Tristan pulled his hand away from the door and turned towards her. "Rory, you're the strongest person I know. Not to mention the smartest, most genuinely nice, beautiful…" he trailed off, embarrassed. "If anyone can do this, you can."

She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Thank you." She was barely audible, speaking as softly as she could, afraid she wouldn't be able to take in another breath for quite some time.

Beating down the butterflies once again, Rory swung the door open. The late autumn breeze chilled her, and she shivered, although she wasn't quite sure that was the reason why. She pulled her sweater tightly around her small frame and hesitantly stepped out of the car. Tristan met her on the passenger side, closing the door and standing next to her.

Rory reached down and grasped Tristan's hand. She needed all the strength she could get. At the moment she wasn't sure her legs could even carry her the short distance across the parking lot to the hospital entrance.

At the touch of Rory's small hand slipping into his, Tristan got butterflies of his own. He was nervous for Rory, worried about her. But this wasn't the cause of his caterpillars blossoming and taking flight. He had been right all along. All through the teasing and taunting, jealousy and hatred, he had been right.

Tristan DuGrey was honestly, head over heels in love with Rory Gilmore. He sighed. Right now, Rory didn't need another admirer. What she needed was a friend, and that was exactly what he was going to give her.

He took a step forward, gently tugging on Rory's arm. She knew he was right; she had to go. Taking the first step carefully, Rory looked down at her feet.

"You're right." They continued walking slowly.

"What?" Tristan asked, confused.

"Being needed. It's a nice feeling."

He looked at her, smiling sadly.

"I know."


	5. Gone

All of a sudden that nagging sensation pulled Rory under

Rain

Chapter 5 – Gone

The automatic doors swung open, blasting Rory and Tristan with the sickening smell of the hospital. Rory was tempted to turn around and walk right back out, but that would mean letting go of Tristan's hand. His tight, comforting grip was the only thing keeping her from screaming. Or crying.

They slowly walked towards the nurses' station. Rory, not wanting to acknowledge the head nurse's apologetic stare, took in the waiting room. The floor was covered in hard, colorless tile, probably the treasure found buried at the bottom of a discount bin in the local hardware store. Shapeless blue plastic chairs lined the walls, welded together to form a huge immovable lump. Metal jutted out from plastic every few inches. Rory supposed they were meant to be armrests.

A lone television hung from the far wall, tuned into some plotless, angst-filled soap opera. A few people were scattered across the waiting area. A small child crying over a skinned elbow to his mother, an elderly couple silently reading Time and Newsweek. A large table sat in the middle, a huge brown monster littered with colorful magazines to pass the time. Two vending machines adorned the same wall as the television, humming a high-pitched melody that sounded like fingernails on a blackboard to Rory's ears.

The nurse cleared her throat, breaking the machines' melodic silence. They were standing in front of the counter, both Tristan and Glenda, as her nametag revealed, looking at her.

Glenda. What the hell? What kind of name is Glenda? Rory thought about the Wizard of Oz, and she giggled. One Halloween she and Lorelai had gone trick-or-treating as Dorothy and Toto. Rory had been too young to protest at the time, and she got stuck with the fuzzy dog ears and red patent leather leash and collar. That picture was a favorite, sitting right by the monkey lamp in the Gilmore family room.

Rory squeezed her eyes shut and imagined Lorelai standing right in front of her, holding a cup of coffee and rambling about something Michel and Sookie had done at the Inn that day. She smiled. Yes, she wasn't standing in the middle of a hospital, her whole body shaking with fear. She was at home, curled up on the couch with her mother, laughing about nothing in particular. Lorelai was fine. Rory hadn't run away when she needed her most, it was all some horrible nightmare in which Tristan was actually a decent person and all her worst fears were coming true.

"Are you Rory Gilmore?"

Rory scowled, inwardly cursing at the nurse for bringing her back to reality. "Yes." she said, her voice sounding more like a timid mouse than the angry, frightened girl she was.

Glenda peered over her glasses, not trying to hide the pity in her eyes. "Please follow me." She turned and walked down the long hallway connecting the waiting room from the rest of the hospital.

Tristan tightened his grip on her trembling hand. Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear. "You've made it this far. Don't turn back now."

Rory forced her legs to move, letting Tristan gently guide her down the hallway. Glenda abruptly turned around, eyeing Tristan. "You can't come with her."

She looked down at their hands, holding each other for support. Rory's face darkened. "Listen, Glenda. I know you're just doing your job and following some stupid hospital rule, but if you knew what hell I had been through today, and what this guy has done for me…" The anger left her voice, leaving her standing there with a pleading look. "You have to let him come. For my sake. For my mom's sake. Please."

The nurse gave Tristan a once-over, wondering how exactly this prep-school pinup boy had wound up in Stars Hollow. And with Rory Gilmore nonetheless. Sighing loudly, she spun on her heel and continued down the hallway.

As they followed Glenda, Rory whispered to Tristan. "Do you want to know the real reason why I ran?"

"I don't know, do I?"

Rory gulped. "Well, first… I've felt his… detachment all day. As soon as Dad told me about Mom, I just had this horrible feeling."

"How so?"

"Tristan, I… I think she's gone."

"God, Rory. Don't think that. You don't even know how severe it was, don't jump to conclusions like that."

"I don't know exactly what happened, but I do know how I feel. And I feel as if half my heart had been ripped out of my chest."

They fell into step with each other. Tristan didn't know what he could say.

"I lied."

Tristan looked up at the ceiling. "What?"

"I lied. That's not why I ran."

Glenda paused at another nurses' station, quickly saying something to the plump woman sitting at the desk. She pulled out a file, searching through its contents, then looking sadly at the trio. She motioned with the cream colored folder towards the end of another hallway. Glenda nodded.

Rory bit her lip. "Maybe that's partly why. But there's something else. Something that scares me. Almost as much as losing my mother."

He watched the fluorescent lights reflecting on the harsh tile, not wanting to see Rory cry again.

They approached the end of the hall, a semicircle of hard blue upholstered chairs coming into view. They sat in front of the window, bathed in a warm yet melancholy light. Christopher, Emily and Richard Gilmore, Sookie, and Luke sat, heads down, some praying, others dabbing at their faces with a tissue in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. They hadn't noticed them approaching yet.

Rory spoke quickly, frightened at what she was about to say. "I ran because my first thought was of you. My father said there was an accident, and the first person I thought of was you, Tristan." She choked back a sob. "It scared me to death. I felt so lonely and so empty. In my heart, in my head I saw you die."

Tristan's heart shattered into a million pieces, mixing with Rory's tears. Her family and friends would notice them soon. Glenda was nearly there.

"Then he told me it was my mom. She was the one who was in the hospital. And I wanted to die. You've never given me any reason to love you, let alone like you. Yet here I was putting you before my own mother in my heart."

He wanted to speak but didn't, knowing Rory needed to get this out before facing her fear.

"But do you know what I've realized, Tristan? It may be true that you've never given me any reason to, but the truth still remains. I'm falling in love with you." She leaned up and brushed her lips across his cheek just as Christopher noticed her.

"Rory."

Tristan stood there dumbfounded as Rory took one last look at him, turning and timidly walking towards either a mended heart or the end of the world.


	6. Broken

Jessie, you rock

Jessie, you rock. Where would I be without my 'beat' reader? ;)

I changed the rating. PG-13 for mild language.

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Rain

Chapter 6 – Broken

She had never been so cold. So cold. Empty. Her heart had been wrenched out of her chest, leaving a gaping hole that was quickly filling with sorrow.

Rory stood in front of the black pit. She was aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks, but didn't have the strength to wipe them away. She pulled her trembling hand out of the safety of his, carefully pulling the petal off of the daisy and letting it get caught in the cool breeze. It spun through the air, up and down, twirling in the unpredictable wind before plummeting to the bottom of the pit. Like Rory.

She peered over the edge slowly, feeling connected to that little daisy petal. Only she wasn't lying on top of her mother's casket, as much as she wanted to. She pulled off another petal. Then another, until they were all resting silently on top of the polished oak.

God, if it weren't for him, she would be down there next to her mother. Even if that's what she wanted right now, she knew it wasn't right. Just because she had-

No. She wouldn't let herself think about it. But no matter how hard she tried, the memories came flooding back to her like a tidal wave, knocking her off of her feet, sending her spiraling towards the edge.

If only she hadn't run. If only she had been there. If only she had said I love you before she left for school that morning.

Blood. There was so much blood. Marring her beautiful features, stealing the beautiful twinkle from her eye. Caking onto her work clothes. I should have had them dry cleaned. But she's gone.

Rory had gone into her closet last night. Grasping at the fabric, trying to pull her back into her life. She had collapsed into the darkness, unable to breathe. Not wanting to. God, it was unfair.

She stared down at the yellow center she still grasped in her sweating hands. Savagely ripping it into pieces. Like she wanted to do to that man.

Fire filled her blood when she recalled his face. That bastard. He hadn't known what a precious life he was taking when he had been too damned lazy to wait the alcohol off. She wanted to do to him just what he had done to Lorelai. And everyone he took her from. Bile splashed against the inside of her malnourished stomach. Why eat. Doesn't matter.

No one approached the girl standing silently on top of the small hill. There was no "how are you doing", "can I do anything". They all knew the answer, and knew it would do no good to ask. She didn't want help. She didn't want to feel better. She wanted her mother.

He stood back, waiting for his Rory. Walking across the matted grass towards a simple statue of an angel. He knelt down, falling into a silent prayer. His fingers ran over the smooth marble, feeling the indention of the words, reading them like Braille. Janlan Thomas DuGrey. In loving memory. Simple, honest, beautiful. Against the wishes of the family. But Tristan understood its understated importance. He lightly kissed the cool surface, eyes brimming with tears, and pulled out the delicate pink rose from his jacket. Setting it on top of the flush surface, he whispered his goodbye and returned to his Rory.

Their shadows began to appear, standing there with nothing to say. Then slowly, lightly, as a kiss from God, it began to snow.


	7. Pieces

Chapter 7 – Pieces

AN- I realize things are a little twisted right now. I have no idea where this story is headed, so just hang on. It's not done, there should be at least 3 more chapters after this. Also, sorry for the long wait between chapters 6 and 7. I've started school, and it's complete hell. I have 7 hours of homework every night, so I'm going to work on getting as much written over the weekend as I can. Thanks.

Chapter 7 – Pieces

The days seemed longer, the sky darker. Rory rarely turned off the TV, finding comfort in its low hum. Static filled her mind, nudging her farther into her withdrawal. People had eventually stopped coming to the house, finding the emptiness more than they could handle.

She spent her days sitting on the front porch in her pajamas, not even bothering to put anything on her bare feet. The temperature had dropped considerably, but it went unnoticed. It hadn't snowed since that day in the cemetery, despite several serious snowstorms affecting the areas around Hartford and Stars Hollow.

Every few days Luke would bring by provisions. He was the only thing keeping Rory alive, the single thread holding her on to the edge. And then there was Tristan. He was standing at the top of the cliff, struggling to pull her back up and into the world of the living. Every moment he wasn't at Chilton was spent holding Rory. And today was the first day of winter break.

Rory sat on the old porch swing, watching the bars of the railing pass in and out of her vision as she swung. The few hours before Tristan arrived were always the hardest. She'd find her mind wandering back into happier times, back when her mother was alive and she didn't spend each day mourning.

Things got harder when she received the letter from Chilton. She had actually gone out to get the mail that day, trying to take things one step at a time. Standing by the kitchen table, she ripped open the cream colored envelope, cutting her finger in the process. Sticking it into her mouth, she read the carefully typed letter on the headmaster's official stationary.

Dear Miss Rory Gilmore. We are saddened to hear of your recent misfortunes. But, as things often are out of our hands, we must discontinue your enrollment at Chilton Preparatory Academy. Your attendance lately has been less than acceptable, and as we understand your recovery is slow, it is our unfortunate decision to send you this letter. Please feel free to resubmit your name to our waiting list once your recovery is complete. All the best, The Chilton Board of Directors.

The letter fell to the kitchen floor limply, staying there until Luke happened upon it, sticking it into the toaster.

So now Rory sat, waiting for her night in shining armor, finger still in her mouth. The old chains creaked with age and cold. Rory shivered, finally noticing the goosebumps covering her exposed skin.

--------

Rory stepped carefully into the street, boots sloshing in the late winter snow. The bus creaked, pulling away from the curb. The sidewalks were nearly empty, most people staying in the warmth of their homes. But there was no warmth to be had in the Gilmore household.

Rory wasn't sure how long it had been since she had last eaten. Her stomach growled constantly, it was hard to keep track. There was still a gallon of milk in the fridge from the last time Luke had dropped by. A box of doughnuts lay half-eaten and open on the stove. Rory had come across the letter stuck in the toaster last week. She angrily pushed the lever down, watching the thick paper catch fire, its edges curling, crumbling into ashes. The orange flames licked their way up the paper and over the edge of the toaster, spreading across the counter. Rory sat, mesmerized, wishing for the hungry fire to work over her skin, engulf her hair, and take her away from this miserable place. Tristan had come in, watching Rory's blue eyes stare emptily at the fire quickly taking over her kitchen. He grabbed the phone, calling the fire department and dousing the counter with water.

They had sat outside later on, watching the firemen pack up their hoses and leave. The two hadn't even spoken to each other since Tristan discovered the fire. He knew too well what she had been thinking, wishing for the blaze to take her. As hard as it was for Tristan to understand this, speaking it aloud would make it all too real. Luckily the kitchen had been salvaged; not much damage was done. The toaster, however, was a melted, mangled lump on the charred counter. Rory walked back inside, running her fingers over the ash. Her fingertips blackened, she ran them lightly across the remnants, watching the swirling patterns she made as her fingers moved. They worked their way down the tile, her hand sliding off of the edge. Lorelai, it spelled.

She had held on to the hope that with the next snow, her mother would show up at the door, laughing at her magnificent trick, holding Rory and apologizing for hurting her so badly. But the whole day had gone, Rory sitting in the doorframe. No laughter, no happiness. No Lorelai. Just pain, as usual.

Rory shivered, watching her feet move numbly, sliding on black ice every once and awhile. She made her way to the courthouse in silence, her red scarf flitting wildly behind her in the wind. She grasped the edge, pulling it over her mouth and nose, inhaling the purely Lorelai scent. It still lingered on the knitted fabric, even after all this time. Rory would sit on the floor, crying into it. She worried that after time the smell would leave, and that at some point she wouldn't feel anything at all anymore.

Walking up the steps to the courthouse, her heart beat rapidly, pounding against her chest. Her foot slipped slightly, and she grabbed the metal railing next to her, the cold biting into her skin. Steadying herself, she held her scarf once more and took another step. Her trembling foot met more ice on the next step, and before she knew it, she was flying through the air and down the concrete steps.

The last thing Rory saw were the snowflakes swirling forbiddingly down, resting on her eyelids, closing them slowly. The cold soaked through her coat, but for some reason, a warmth spread from around her head down towards her toes, sticky and thick.

--------

She heard voices. Concern spelled out clearly, even through her clouded mind. Unidentifiable pieces of nothing swirled, tumbling down over her face. Something cold and wet kept splashing onto her palm.

Rory wanted to scream, to cry, to call out, but couldn't find the energy to open her mouth, or even to open her eyes. Her face twisted, maybe in her mind alone. She held her breath, willing for it to leave her completely. She was too cold to care, to feel, to think.

She felt, rather than saw, a bright light descending on her. And that was when her mind took over her body. Horrible images flashed through her mind, ones she couldn't begin to stop. Fear and anxiety flooded through her, gnawing on the inside of her stomach. She saw an older version of herself sitting quietly in an empty room, her face expressionless. She saw her future, one without Lorelai, one without love or happiness or anything resembling the dream she had once held for herself.

As though it were actually happening, she felt Tristan slipping away. She forced him back out of her life as quickly as he had been swept up in it. No happy ending, no solemn goodbyes, no coming back. She was standing outside of her life, a spectator as helpless as the Rory living it. Image after image coursed through her veins, alighting upon every emotion in her frigid body. Every one except for serenity, it seemed. In a flash it ended, and she was gone. Gone forever. Gone like her dream and her life and her mother.


	8. Falling

Rain  
  
Chapter 8 – Falling  
  
  
  
Rory couldn't describe the dizzy feeling that was taking over her head. It was like a million different senses were coursing through her body at once, robbing her of her ability to speak, move, listen, or see. Images flashed behind her eyes, a private movie screening that she'd much rather not be experiencing. In a matter of seconds, Rory experienced days, months, and years of sadness and pain. She felt every tear falling onto her cheek, every stab of emptiness, every intentionally comforting hand over her own. The only thing she could do was stand there, that mixture of sickness and anticipation on her tongue, waiting for the moment to end. And when it did, she came crashing down.  
  
Tristan saw her falling to the floor before she even knew it was happening, lunging to the ground in an attempt to catch her. She fell into his arms, a small gasp escaping from her lips. In her twisting, turning mind, she saw her mother, lying lifeless, blood smeared across her cheek. She felt the emotion, the desperation, the deep, burning desire to die.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, their blue light extinguished, her face twisted in pain. "Rory?" Tristan whispered. She forced herself to support her own weight, looking blankly down the hall. Blinking, she grimaced in pain. Tristan helped her to stand, supporting her as she wavered, the horrible foreign thoughts flooding her mind once more.  
  
"Rory, are you okay?" Christopher asked, concern spread across his face. A couple of nurses had rushed over, looking anxiously at Rory.  
  
"No." she said simply, standing up, refusing any assistance from anyone but Tristan. She forced the images of her mother's casket, draped with petals, out of her head. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be. But the thoughts and feelings were so real. The bitter taste of blood on her tongue, her pounding heart, the memories flashing through her body. It was all so real.  
  
Slowly the nurses left, realizing that even if there were anything they could do, their help would be refused. Christopher took his hand off of his daughter's back, letting Rory stand on her own. Sookie's hand was still clutched at her heart. Her grandfather sat motionless with a worn copy of The New York Times lying limply across his knee, and Emily's forehead was creased with worry. They all knew something Rory didn't. Panic rushed through her veins, pinpricks of worry spreading across her skin.  
  
She focused on keeping her feet planted firmly where they stood, fighting the urge to run again. Tristan reached up, brushing his fingertips across her bare forearm. Warmth leapt from his body to hers, and suddenly she stood up straighter. Rory ignored the twisting, turning rollercoaster ride in her stomach, grabbing Tristan's hand and squeezing it tightly. He was the only thing keeping her from running again. She ran her index finger lightly up his wrist, then closed her eyes and took a breath, smelling the mixture of Tristan and fear surrounding her.  
  
Rory exhaled, letting the anxiety flow out of her. It had always sounded like something Miss Patty would say. Take a breath, and as you let it out, let the fear and the pain go right out with it. But at the moment that was exactly what it felt like. Just the feeling of Tristan standing so close, his breath tickling the back of her neck seemed to calm her soul. She broke their embrace, pulling her arms around her body.  
  
Her eyes opened slowly, coming to rest on folder hanging outside a nearby door, creased with wear. She forced her feet to move and carefully walked towards it, afraid she didn't have the strength to make it all the way. Her head still pounded, little white dots flashing in front of her eyes. Her legs shook, timidly carrying her. She squinted hard, unshed tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. Lorelai Gilmore, the folder read. She ran her fingers over the glossy lettering, letting them travel down the frame, over the rough woodworking surrounding the heavy door, across the gray to the doorknob. Her fingertips brushed the frigid metal.  
  
"Rory, don't." she heard from behind her, without really hearing it at all.  
  
She grasped the dented metal, holding her breath. It was cold beneath her fingertips, her nerves electrified, spreading the feeling up her arm. Little hairs stood on end, and she unconsciously shivered. Her hand hadn't left the metal yet. She stood completely still, attempting to shake the last remnants of memory standing on the edge of her mind. Slowly the doorknob turned and the door swung open. Rory wasn't even sure if she had done it.  
  
She took one step inside, blinking in terror. It was dark. A soft beeping filled the room, and a curtain was pulled closed ahead of her, blocking the bed from the rest of the room. Rory wondered if they kept someone in their room after they died, then immediately stopped the thought. She couldn't be doing that. It was morbid, and she had to be strong. For Lorelai, for her family, for herself. Her hands trembled. She took in shallow, shaky breaths, closing the door behind her to disable her from running again.  
  
Her eyes remained focused on the pale curtain in front of her, swaying gently in an unseen breeze. The room was cold, not only in temperature but also in emotion. For the first time in her life, Rory was unable to sense her mother's presence in the room.  
  
Slowly, she began to move towards the curtain. Her hand, trembling independently from the rest of her body, shakily grasped the thin plastic. She pulled, and it opened with a metal clang, light filtering in from the faded window, forcing Rory to squint. She could vaguely make out a Lorelai- shaped form in the bed, and Rory's breath caught in her throat.  
  
She dropped to her knees by the bed, her fingers lightly running across Lorelai's bare forearm. It was colder than she imagined, colder than she had ever dreamt her mother could be. Little tubes stuck out of her body at erratic angles, and a melody of beeping filled the room. Machines littered her bedside, a long forgotten pitcher of ice slowly creating a puddle on a brown table. Her eyes traveled across her mother's body, down towards a particularly noisy machine.  
  
It was when she saw the small green lines flashing across the screen, up and down at a steady pace, that Rory first cried. She didn't stop until she quietly sobbed herself to sleep that night, a comforting arm around her weary shoulders, thoughts of winters to come and next spring's daisies drifting in and out of her mind. 


	9. Again

Author's Note - Once again, thank you for all of the reviews. I honestly don't have any desire to continue writing Rain, so I finally decided to end it. Maybe you'll see an epilogue at some point, I'm not sure. I appreciate all of the feedback I've gotten from writing this, and I hope everyone has enjoyed reading it. Thanks for supporting me. :)  
  
--------  
  
Rain  
  
Chapter 9 - Again  
  
  
  
This moment had been six months in the making. After all the pain, the tears, the running away, she had finally made it to this point.  
  
Rory stood on the front porch, gazing out over the lawn. The daisies were finally in full bloom, lining the driveway where her mother sat. In a wheelchair.  
  
Mother and daughter shared a solemn smile. Only they knew truly what a battle this had been. Through all of the rehabilitation, Lorelai had refused to admit to anyone but Rory just how much pain she was in. But here they were now, the proud owners of a wheelchair covered with metallic blue paint and a leopard print antenna.  
  
Lorelai would say for years after that the only thing that made her want to get better was the sight of Rory, kneeling by her hospital bed, sobbing helplessly. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." she told Rory. "I just laid there thinking 'I made that. I created that. And just knowing that she loves me as much as I love her makes me want to walk again.'"  
  
She inhaled slowly, glancing to her left where Luke and Sookie stood. It was time.  
  
Lorelai carefully reached down, moving her feet off of the metal where they rested. A shaky hand grasped the armrest of the wheelchair, and she willed herself to push. Suddenly, she was standing.  
  
Her muscles trembled, but she didn't give up. After assuring herself that she would be caught if she were to fall, Lorelai slowly let go of the wheelchair. Then put one foot in front of another.  
  
For the first time since the accident, Lorelai walked towards the front door of her house. On her own. No one there to support the weight of her burdens. She approached Rory carefully, and took in the scene.  
  
By Rory's side was the same person who had been there all along. Someone who she once believed she hated, but had eventually begun to love. Tristan. Lorelai knew that it would take some time for the growing friendship to become something more, something that he had been wanting since the beginning. She smiled at him. They both knew he was willing to wait as long as she needed.  
  
Rory reached out to help her mother up the stairs and through the door. As soon as Sookie began running frantically around the kitchen, searching for the ingredients to a welcome home feast; Luke sat down on the couch, flipping through the channels and looking like he might cry; Lorelai wailed at her daughter to help her up the stairs so she could change into her favorite jeans; Rory knew that eventually things would be back to the way they were before the accident.  
  
The only difference was that now she had someone there to help her through the long road that still awaited her. He took her hand in his, and squeezed gently.  
  
Maybe things would never be the same again. She looked at him, and smiled. But maybe it was better this way. 


End file.
